


A Morning Ride

by dptullos



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dptullos/pseuds/dptullos
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	A Morning Ride

The day of Emperor Dorca’s triumph was bright and clear, just as the meteorologists had predicted, so their chief would be receiving a bag of gold instead of a posting to Kyril Island. The streets were swept and clean, the proles were feasting at the Emperor’s expense, and the Counts and assembled Vor of the capital were flocking to the Palace to pay homage to their liege. 

It would be a magnificent ceremony, but Jacques was not sorry to miss it. He was a simple man, with no taste for rich food or fine wine, and he lacked the polite manners of high society. He could only have embarrassed his Emperor with his presence. 

Besides, the Emperor’s huntsman had other responsibilities. He was no Vor, to lie around in bed until late in the morning. Jacques rose as the first rays of light shone in through his window, slipping out of bed in utter silence to don his huntsman’s outfit. Breakfast was only a small loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese from the servants’ pantry, a quick meal to start the day. 

The grooms had Trooper prepared for him, the old horse champing at the bit in eagerness, and he murmured praise to his old friend. The horse was the greatest gift his Emperor had ever granted him, a stallion from the Vorbarra stables fit for royalty. A gift far beyond his station, but Emperor Dorca was generous to those who served him well. 

He rode through the streets of Vorbarra Sultana, fighting against the flood of people pushing towards the Imperial Palace, getting and giving curses as he pushed Trooper forward and the pedestrians reluctantly gave way. From time to time he caught sight of a Count or a great Vor lord surrounded by servants and retainers, here to pay tribute to the one true Emperor, Dorca the Conqueror. Jacques stayed well clear of them; he might squabble and bicker with his fellow proles, but no wise man disputed the right of way with the Vor.

Jacques’s destination was a small manor on the outskirts of the city, tucked away among a small grove of trees. A stable boy ran out to meet him as he approached, and he gave Trooper to the lad with a silver coin and a stern look that promised another kind of payment if anything happened to his horse. The boy snapped to attention as if Jacques was an officer, and he waved the child away. 

There was a Vorbarra armsman standing outside the servant’s entrance, rifle held at the ready. He did not salute, but he let Jacques pass without a word spoken, staring through him as though he was a ghost. The door swung open silently, and Jacques walked into the manor with a steady stride, heading for the stairs. 

On a day of celebration, only the harshest of masters refused to let their domestics join the feasting. Jacques saw only a single maid as he made his way to the second story, where the young lord lived with his sister. She looked past him, then took a second glance, and the plates in her hand toppled to the ground with a crash.

Jacques sighed to himself. “Please tell the young lord that I am here to meet him,” he said. His own mother had been a maid, and he had no desire to trouble the young woman. But she turned and fled from him, running towards the young lord’s chambers, and he followed with unhurried strides. 

Lord Andrei Vorbarra did not look the part of royalty. He was dressed in a hunting outfit not unlike Jacques’s own, with only the two swords at his side to mark him as Vor. His dark eyes stared up at Jacques, questioning, and Jacques gave him a single nod. The maid cowered behind him in terror, and Jacques could hear noise coming from the sister’s room. Best to do this quickly.

He said, “Lord Andrei, His Imperial Majesty has sent me his compliments and a task for his nephew. It is a fine day for hunting, and our Emperor wishes for his kinsman to bring him a deer for his table.”

The young lord carefully removed his two swords and held them out. “Please take my swords,” he said, and after a long moment the maid obeyed him. Her hands were trembling, and she kept darting glances over at Jacques.

He bowed low to the young lord, and Andrei took a step forward. “Come, lord. Your sister wakes, and I would not trouble her.” Casting one last glance behind him, Andrei followed Jacques down the hallway. 

The stable boy had Trooper ready, and Jacques gave him another small silver coin. Lord Andrei tossed the lad a gold coin with Emperor Vlad’s face, and they rode off together while he was still staring blankly at the fortune in his hands.

As they travelled, Jacques noted absently that the young lord was a fine rider with a better horse. Lady was one of the Emperor’s finest steeds, but nothing other than the best would do for the Emperor’s nephew. He was glad that Lady had a rider worthy of her; Jacques was Emperor Dorca’s loyal man, but years of patient teaching had never made his student more than merely competent. 

They rode for a while in silence, away from the city and into the Vorbarra woods. Only the Vorbarras and their guests were permitted to hunt in the great forest beyond the city walls, though a month never passed without some unlucky poacher being dragged before a magistrate for trespassing. Jacques’s father had almost lost a hand to the Emperor’s justice before he took up a safer position in the Imperial Stables. 

Today, though, all of the poachers were eating the Emperor’s food at the great feasting tables. Jacques could have been with them, invisible among the mobs, toasting Emperor Dorca’s health and the health of his newborn son.  _ Yuri _ . The Emperor’s heir was strong and healthy, and the new galactic medicine would keep him well. There would be no more Imperial heirs dying young, not with the Komarran doctors standing by at the Palace. 

The Emperor had loaned those doctors to his sister’s girl when she was ill, and Jacques knew that they had saved her life. He had always been a good lord to Jacques, strong and stern but open-handed. Even when he was only a boy, Dorca had known how to repay good service. 

Jacques stopped, and Andrei halted with him. A silence hung between them as they climbed down from their horses and secured them to a great oak tree. The young lord was very pale, but his hands were steady and the face he turned towards Jacques was calm and composed. Jacques moved closer, but Andrei held up a hand. 

“Anya,” he demanded, with a Vorbarra voice that bore no possibility of disobedience. His uncle’s voice. “She will be well?”

Jacques said, “The Emperor will announce Lady Anya’s engagement to Prince Yuri soon, Lord Andrei. His Imperial Majesty wishes to unite the remaining branches of the Vorbarra family tree.” 

“And our servants? They have stood by us in difficult times, and I would not see them cast into the street?”

“The Lady Anya will be a Princess,” Jacques told him. “Your servants will be rewarded for their loyalty.”

Lord Andrei had no more questions. 

Later, as he rode back towards the capital, Jacques found himself remembering a morning ride many years ago. Lord Vanya had been a good rider, like his son, but he was always reckless. They had left the Vorbarra armsmen far behind when they came to the river, and Lord Vanya had proposed for the hundredth time that they should swim it. 

He had been so surprised when Jacques finally agreed. 

Later, he had laid Lord Vanya’s body before his father and brother. Tears had run ceaselessly down Lord Dorca’s face as he wept for his elder brother, the clever, the gifted, the best-beloved of their father. The heir. 

Jacques wondered if he would weep for his nephew. 


End file.
